TABOO TALES(erotica)

Desire for Revenge leads to dark deeds.

******

If you read what learned men have said about anger you will find a common thread: an urge for moderation. Mark Twain considered it to be an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it was poured. Albert Einstein observed that anger dwells only in the bosom of fools; whilst Colin Powell, whose very job was to deal in lethal force, advised ‘Get Mad, then get over it.’

For me, anger was an eager friend. I embraced and nurtured it, for in its cleansing flame I found relief. It scoured my brain of notions of honour and my heart of the love that I thought had filled it. During the day I held it close, feeding it the chaff and straw of my sister’s lies, until the flame shimmered and danced and reached out to warm the sinews of my body; and at night it was a beacon that showed me the way ahead, and I took comfort in its lonely light.

Initially my anger was a blunt weapon. I wanted to lash out, to destroy and obliterate anyone associated with the whole sorry affair – but as time passed I learned to control it, forging it in the anvil of my mind until it became like the burnished blade of a scalpel. I held it close to my heart and its image was sharp and clean and good.

I tried to maintain a balance. Time and again I dissected the events that led to the current point, and I analysed my role as dispassionately as I could. I was aware that some people would condemn me as a complicit partner: after all, it was I who had fucked her – but I had done so without premeditation and in innocence of knowing it was my sister, whilst she had not. I could forgive her in a heartbeat if she had seduced me for love; I could even forgive her if it had been for spontaneous lust, consummated and then regretted; but I could never forgive her for taking me simply to win a two-bit bet, and then to cast me aside with no more feeling than she might tread on a cockroach in the street.

The cold logic of my reasoning fuelled my anger even more, so that it snarled and growled like an animal in a cage waiting to be released.

And all the time I was watching and waiting for the right opportunity to unleash it.

*****

Beth wandered into the kitchen on a Saturday morning a couple of weeks later, whilst I was eating my breakfast. She was wearing a loose tank top and a little pair of white knickers and she was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Morning Sis.” I needed to maintain a degree of normality with Beth, for although I had not yet settled on a plan of action I knew that when the time came its success might depend on her thinking that all was well between us.

She turned her blue eyes onto me, yawning, and settled into the chair opposite without saying anything. I waited a few moments before speaking again.

“I’m moving out of home.”

“What?!”

I turned over a page of the paper, not looking at her. “I’m moving out of home. Jim Bowers has offered me his flat whilst he is overseas and I’ve decided to take it.”

“Oh, so it’s not for long then.”

“Maybe. He’s backpacking Europe so I reckon six months at the least, and knowing Jim he’ll find some rich chick in Monaco and end up staying there.” I looked up at her. “Anyway, it’s time I moved out – I can’t live with Mum for the rest of my life.”

Her lips assumed the well-known Beth pout. “What about me?”

I considered that that should be her motto, but kept the thought to myself. “What about you?”

She leaned forward so that I was treated to a view of most of her breasts, the nipples barely hidden by the neckline of her top. “That’s what I said. You can’t leave me here with Mum!”

“Why not? She’s a good Mother.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that… well, it isn’t fair for you to be heading off and I’ll be left here to have all the work and no fun.”

“There will be less work to do with me gone.”

“No there won’t. The house will be just the same size.”

“Well, you move out too.”

She misunderstood me. “You mean with you? Where’s the flat?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I think it will do us both good to be apart and having you living in the flat with me won’t achieve that. ”

Her voice turned hard. “What the hell sort of statement is that! Are you saying its my fault you have to go? Is that why you’re leaving?” Her eyes narrowed with malice “… or is it that you’ve moving slutty Susan in with you?”

I sighed. “Beth, I don’t want to fight with you but you’ve just demonstrated why it wouldn’t work. Do you know how many conversations we’ve had this year where you didn’t get pissed off? Not one!” I leaned towards her. “There’s no fun in our relationship any more. I don’t know what I’ve done, or why you are so angry with me, but believe it or not I’m leaving because I’m twenty two years old and I want a life of my own, and….”

I was about to tell her that I couldn’t spend another day in the same house as her, with her malicious eyes and sharp mouth, but an idea popped into my mind and I stopped abruptly. Not a plan yet, but just the first notions of how it might start to come together.

She was staring at me, her small face still angry. “And what?”

“I was going to say that I’d be happy to have you visit from time to time, if you like.”

I could see her mind working on this new angle, figuring out what was in it for her. “Like, visit, as if for afternoon tea?”

“No – visit as in stay over for a night or two from time to time, if you want. There’s a spare room and its close to your work.”

“Oh. OK.” Grudgingly. Not even the common courtesy of a thankyou. “When are you moving?” I could see her working on something already.

“Tomorrow.”